


Tie It with A Bow

by soIiIoquy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Hux, Fluff, Hux POV, Hux is furious but indignantly resigned on the outside, Identity Porn, Implied Force bond, Itty bitty angst, Kylo POV, Kylo is Prince Ben, Kylo is not happy, M/M, Masked Wedding, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Pining, Top Kylo Ren, and FEELINGS happen, and insecure on the inside, both boys sneak out for their Last Hurrah, but try telling him that, he also has younger siblings, hidden identity, sorta Soft Kylux, the pair wear masks for the ceremony basically, their pining confuses them both, they are adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soIiIoquy/pseuds/soIiIoquy
Summary: Hux was the dutiful elder son, the truenotheir, theBastard. And as such, he was perfect for pawning off to better his family’s –his father’s– social and political standing. Brendol wanted a connection to royalty, to power, and the best course of action was to have Hux marry into the beloved Naberries of Naboo.Prince Ben was an unknown. Hux had never met him, never even seen a picture of the man, and now he was betrothed to him, the date rapidly approaching, and the ceremony wouldn’t even be normal.Who the kriff wore masks for their wedding?





	1. Armitage Hux

**Author's Note:**

> Considering the Rating, if you came here expecting Explicit Content like my other such rated pieces have, it's not here, but i didn't think it was quite able to pass for Mature.
> 
> -
> 
>  _Sooooo_ , with that out of the way! This little idea came smacking on my brain door and freaking swerved me off course from and overtook my other writing duties because it wanted to _LIVE_. In this little canon divergence piece we are going to **skew things** some and say that the **Nabooian rulers are predominantly hereditary and typically termless** (unless removed or stepping down) rather than how it actually is. Whether Ben or Rey (since she’s younger and female and that's more canonically likely) take over I suppose can really be up to the reader. Ben can just have a direct shot to being a Senator instead…or something.
> 
> The masked ceremony concept of this was very loosely inspired by a legend/myth/folklore/fairytale/etc. but I cannot for the life of me remember what it is!!!! I THINK it’s Asian in origin, but I’m not sure. However I can vividly recall the fanart piece that _actually_ inspired this considering I don’t remember the exact tale the art piece was itself inspired by °(ಥ‿ಥ)°
> 
> -
> 
> OH, and I made a [moodboard](http://nonsensicalsoliloquy.tumblr.com/post/168073343293/tie-it-with-a-bow-kylux-explicit-18175-2/) thing for this piece! ❤
> 
> -

 

 **\---{{(** ○  **○**  ○ **)}}---**

 

It wasn’t fair.  _Nothing_  about this Force damned situation was fair. Not a single. kriffing. thing.

So Hux found himself indulging one last time in his favorite escape, his only true rebellion – against his father, his life, this fucking arranged marriage he couldn’t dig his way out of no matter how hard he tried. Or wished he could try. Alas, he was the dutiful elder son. Not even the true heir yet still he had to maintain appearances, propriety, be everything he was supposed to be, do everything he was supposed to do.

Well, if there was one thing Hux was not, it was a virgin. And that was the only thing he had to hold onto as his secret little ‘fuck you’ to his father and this whole stupid marriage deal. So with his upcoming nuptials on the horizon, now was Hux’s last chance to get in some fun before he had to play blushing virgin bride to a spoiled prince at some weird-ass, archaic wedding. It was bad enough he’d never met the man, but being unable to even see his face until after they’re  _literally_  bound and then paraded about for hours was ridiculous. If his father weren’t jumping at the chance to not only marry Hux off, but unite their family with the Nabberies, there’s no way the old bastard would have ever agreed to all this.

Hux cast his eyes around the dark, heady club, music pulsing loud and thick, vibrating through every surface, the rhythm thrumming in his chest. So far he’d made his way through a drink and a half, of what though Hux hadn’t the slightest idea beyond it being strong and unexpectedly flavorful. He’d managed to get both purchased for him with a little flirting, a little close contact, a touch, a look, before surreptitiously ditching them. The men he targeted for a drink and the men he targeted for a lay were hardly on the same level. Right now he felt sufficiently buzzed, the music helping spike his desire as he focused his attention on finding a partner for the night. His Last Hurrah, so to speak. And considering his single life was coming to an end he wanted to find a man as close as possible to his every filthy dream and spend the long hours until sunrise tangled up with him. It was a rather tall order, as Hux had high standards, but since it was really just the physical he was searching for tonight, that helped a great deal.

A sudden, odd sensation pushed at Hux’s fuzzy mind, almost like he was being stared at and pressed against at the same time. Glancing around himself, Hux checked to see if someone had in fact brushed up against him. He wasn’t too close to the dance floor, his table at a corner with a decent vantage point to scope out the patrons. 

His search stopped when he noticed a man directly across from him, leaning back against the bar several feet away. His eyes were dark, the gaze deep and intense in a way Hux had never seen before, and his hair was likewise colored. It looked thick, attractively disheveled with waves that nearly touched his broad shoulders. And  _damn_ , were they broad. All of him was broad really, and he seemed tall as well, long thick legs covered in black along with the rest of him.

It was blatantly obvious the man was interested. There wasn’t a smile, nothing truly telling beyond the way he stared, but there was  _something_ , a something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps a micro-expression, too subtle to really show but there enough to convey he was interested, very interested. Well, regardless, he had the man’s attention for now and he could work with whatever was there. His brooding stranger already hit quite a few of Hux’s marks just from this distance, and he didn’t have enough time to be  _too_  picky.

Hux made a point of dragging his eyes along the man’s form before returning to their fixed stare. The man arched a brow with a tilt of his head, a question in those deep eyes, and Hux returned the expression without pause, but allowed himself a smirk as well. The grin seemed to be the answer the man was hoping for. He pushed off from the bar, the move seeming so effortless, and made his way through the crowd, stopping right in Hux’s space. He couldn’t have been more than an inch or two taller but somehow he still seemed to loom over Hux, his gaze twice as intense, his breadth more impressive. His features were a bit unconventional, yet there was something beyond striking about him. Visually addictive, even. Something about the man radiated sensuality so viscerally that Hux yearned to press every line of his body against him, bury his fingers in that hair, devour those pretty, plush lips, and simply forget every second of his life, even his own kriffing name, if he could only stay close to his stranger.

Stars, the man was nothing short of  _gorgeous_.

The man stepped closer, plucking Hux’s glass from him and setting it on the tall, round table to his left, neither of them bothering to look away from one another. With barely a half step more the man was nearly against Hux, and while Hux’s eyes shifted back and forth, taking in the abyssal ones of his stranger, the man merely kept his stare pointed and seeking.

Hux didn’t flinch when the man lifted his hand, a finger trailing lightly up Hux’s chest, his neck, caressing across his cheek, the backs of each one then sliding down before catching Hux’s chin and tipping it up. His stranger leaned close as if to kiss him, his parted mouth a hairsbreadth away, when instead he brushed their cheeks together until the man was grazing his lips at Hux’s ear. The music of the place was too loud to really hear anything, even being so close, but Hux caught what was almost like a breath, concentrated enough to just make out a name but not much of a voice beyond being low, syncing rather nicely with the pulse of the atmosphere around them.

Smooth and seductive, it sounded like ' _Kylo_.'

Initially Hux wondered if he’d misheard, but the strange name rather suited his dark stranger. He liked it, even though it was likely fake. Which was a smart choice that Hux nearly forgot to enact himself, being so caught up in his new acquaintance.

Tipping his lips toward Kylo’s endearing large ear, he gave his own name for the evening. It wasn’t exactly a fake one, but not a name anyone would have thought to attribute to him. Hux felt the slight smirk along his cheek in response, Kylo pressing closer and pushing one hand up the back of Hux’s tunic while the other traced the nape of his neck, teasing the hairs there before sliding in.

" _Ari_ ," Kylo whispered, echoing Hux, the word still more like a pulse than a true sound, but no less attractive. In fact, the similarity to the thrumming music around them made it all the more alluring.

Hux nipped Kylo’s ear, traced his tongue along the shell, and sighed a ‘ _yes’_  that he knew wouldn’t be more than air, feeling the gratified moan of the man rumbling between them. Kylo shoved Hux close, rocked his hips against him as he brushed his lips up and down Hux’s neck, grazing his teeth beneath his jaw and dragging slowly along it until his lips brushed Hux’s. He swept back and forth, suggestive,  _enticing_ , their breath tangled and already speeding up. 

Before either of them could tip the scale, Hux pulled away, smirking at the questioning look Kylo gave him, and inclined his head to the side. He had a room in the back; it wasn’t great, still on the darker side, still loud—though muffled at least—, but it was clean and that’s what mattered most to Hux in these situations. Kylo didn’t take hardly a second to guess Hux’s intent, and as Hux bit his lip, hoping to tease regardless, Kylo quickly stole a kiss, the gesture deep, breathtaking, and a clear, unmistakable  _yes_.

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

 _Maker, he was beautiful._  He was so damned beautiful it was physically painful to witness, swept up in the man as he was.

They were both still taking in long, deep breaths, though they’d evened out in the last ten or so minutes they’d been resting after another round of truly, ridiculously mind-blowing sex. Hux couldn’t remember just what round it was anymore. The air in the room was so thick, pulsating with the music, the beats of their rapid hearts and rush of their heavy breathing, everything dark and heady and undoubtedly the most sensual, the most passionate, the most utterly  _intoxicating_  experience of his life. All in this tiny room in a crowded, far too loud and dim club in an equally crowded, far too loud corner of the city, wrapped up in a stranger that took his breath away. 

Kylo hadn’t moved from above him the entire time they’d worked to settle themselves, his large, clever hands planted on either side of Hux’s head, Kylo’s thick thighs bracketing his hips with Hux’s legs limply draped across them, his feet touching the tangled sheets. Even the man’s impressive cock had naturally slid from Hux’s pleasantly sore and still occasionally clenching hole rather than disengaging himself. Come was again leaking from his entrance and cooling on his belly. They’d simply remained in place after their latest orgasms had hit and rushed through them, each one seeming more intense than the last, each one feeling like they were sharing the experience rather than simply drowning in their own.

With a slow breath, a blink and a swallow, Kylo pulled away and dropped back heavily on his heels. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, every line, every dip and rise of muscle glistened in the dim lighting of the room. Hux bit his swollen lip, his cock twitching weakly again in interest, remembering the taste of salt on his tongue from when he’d licked over every inch of the man he could get to earlier that night. After another moment of seemingly collecting himself, Kylo bent over the edge of the low bed and picked up one of the discarded towels, then gently cleaned off Hux’s torso and between his legs. Hux gave him a lazy grin in appreciation, which Kylo reciprocated, tossing the towel down.

Leaning back over him, Kylo’s eyes trailed Hux’s chest, his neck, before settling on his face once again, the depths dark and piercing. But the intensity was soft rather than sharp, enthralling rather than uncomfortable. Kylo reached a hand up, his fingers just grazing Hux’s skin, the cool layer of drying sweat becoming long forgotten with the resurging arousal heating his skin. Hux expected Kylo to drop down and press a kiss to his waiting mouth when the man’s light touch reached Hux’s face, gliding along his high cheekbone, the rough pad of his thumb brushing Hux’s lower lip. But instead he merely kept his gaze steady, his breath as hot as the warmth that radiated from the man leaning so close now he was almost flush against Hux.

Then, surprising him, Kylo again moved away. Hux’s brows drew in, creased and confused, and he questioningly stroked a few fingers along the man’s strong forearm. Returning from once more retrieving an item off the floor, Kylo came back with not one of the small towels but instead his blood red undershirt. The sight of it brought a highly unexpected wave of pain and disappointment to surge through Hux. He’d hoped Kylo would stay longer, that they’d continue touching and tasting until neither of them could conceive of going further no matter how willing the soul might be. Hux wanted the entire night, but it was difficult to convey much with the pulse of the music beyond the room so loud, thrumming through their bodies as much as muffling their words.

However, rather than pull it on as Hux feared, Kylo brought it into his lap and started picking at a small tear at the hem. Far more confused, Hux gently gripped Kylo’s wrists, brushing his thumbs along them to get the man’s attention. After a moment and a brief flash of a small, but still triumphant grin, Kylo’s dark eyes flicked up to him, penetrating and curious as his head tipped a little in question himself. 

Hux glanced down to the thin shirt, then back up, mouthing, ‘what are you doing?’

The man merely gave a sort of ‘wait and see’ look before he returned to what he was doing.

It took another few tugs, but eventually Kylo got a relatively even tear going and carefully ripped off a thin strip of the fabric, creating what looked like a ribbon from the blood red material. Kylo then tossed the undershirt back to the floor, landing haphazardly again like the rest of their combined clothing. 

Kylo’s penetrating gaze returned to Hux’s, his wide palm pressing against Hux’s chest and slowly dragging up until he reached his neck, a finger going to trace across the thin skin, back and forth like the cut of a knife. Slipping his hand around to the nape, Kylo gently urged Hux to sit up. He took the hint and did his best, aching a little, his abs and thighs sore, but Kylo seemed to notice and kept his grip to help Hux the rest of the way. Once he was sitting, the position a bit awkward with Hux’s legs still draped across the man’s thighs, Kylo brought his hands to Hux’s waist and helped situate him into the comfortable seat of his lap.

Hux wrapped his arms loosely around Kylo’s neck, still curious as to what exactly the man was intending. Kylo clearly noticed, his red, kiss bitten lips curling up at one end. Normally Hux would consider such an expression a smirk, but it was too soft for that, which only continued to build Hux’s curiosity.

At the touch of rough fingertips on his back, Hux let out a quiet gasp, arching toward Kylo as the man continued to trail his feather-light touch up, his thumbs pressing at the nape of Hux’s neck and teasing his hairline. Hux tipped his head back, expecting the pleasant run of those thick fingers in his hair, but instead, Kylo’s hands came around his neck, the soft brush of fabric lining the nape, then sides.

Tilting his head down, Hux watched as Kylo wound the makeshift ribbon around his slender neck and carefully tied the long ends into a single, simple bow, off center and a bit uneven. His dark eyes were locked on his work the entire time, not noticing Hux’s open expression, gaping faintly at the peculiar gesture.

With the gentle, almost reverent way Kylo brushed the fabric, still staring, Hux felt something grow rapidly in his chest, rising up so fast he sucked in a breath to keep from suffocating on the intensity. And when Kylo’s eyes came back to join his own, his fingers still at his neck, that sensation burst, electric and warm. In the moment it took to settle, the heat between them – bodies and breath and unending gaze – Hux realized it wasn’t a shot, not a strike like lightening, but a swiftly built up and indescribable emotion. Kylo drew him close, slowly rolling his hips as he did, sucking in a breath as sharp as Hux’s when their growing erections brushed. Hux’s eyes were shifting from Kylo’s to his always inviting mouth, Kylo mimicking the unspoken desire, both of them clearly thinking the same. With an eager gasp, Hux pulled Kylo forward and pressed their lips together.

They rocked their bodies against one another, rhythm relaxed and steady, their kisses chaste and so soft, and somewhere in that haze Kylo lowered them both back to the sheets.

Hux inhaled quietly, gripping Kylo’s biceps when the man slid in to Hux’s still slick heat, the glide easy and perfect, filling Hux up as wonderfully as he had every round they’d shared that night. Keeping their eyes fixed, every rise and fall of their chests was long and even as they settled there, unmoving, simply locked together. Eventually Kylo nudged forward just a little, causing Hux’s hips to buck reflexively, and that seemed to bring them back from whatever place they’d been sharing in each other’s stare. Drawing out slowly, not much, only a little, he started a gentle pace, his hips rocking with shallow thrusts, another, and another, and another.

Something was happening here that Hux couldn’t explain. This was vastly different from everything they’d done so far. Too slow, too there and yet not, too..entwined? Even without being as close and fervent as they’d been at times earlier that night, there was a sense of entanglement here that was nothing like what they’d had before. It was deeper, somehow, not just the physical sensations, but something more.

Kylo’s eyes fluttered shut, a lazy, unheard curse on his parted lips, his pace picking up at the mounting sparks of pleasure, moving swifter, deeper, rocking them along the sheets. Leaning forward, his hips shifting, Hux gasped, back arching as he bore down on the thrust, tightening his grip on the man’s arms when Kylo’s cock brushed his prostate.

Some muffled breaths of  _ah-ah-hnn-mmm_  were being drawn out of him. Hux knew they couldn’t be heard, not really, but it still felt as though he could, and Kylo seemed to respond to them as if he were able to as well. Their half-lidded eyes kept on one another’s, pleading without words, and Kylo dropped down to capture Hux’s lips, the kiss deeper than before, growing as impassioned as the increased pace had become.

Hux buried his hands in Kylo’s hair, keeping him close, murmuring ‘ _fuck yes – don’t stop – ah – yes’_  into Kylo’s mouth, the vibration of responding groans trembling between them. 

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Kylo’s lips mouthed on Hux’s, his back bowing, hips thrusting harder as they both grew near the end.

He buried his face at Hux’s neck, panting hot on his skin. Hux pressed his lips along Kylo’s cheek, nipping his lobe and breathing as rushed and needy in the man’s ear as Kylo was at his neck, sucking open mouthed kisses and grunting, each one a rumble tingling across his skin.

Hux hadn’t even been thinking of his own erection, leaking precum on his belly, until he felt Kylo tightly wrap one of his large hands around it, stroking in time with the quick rhythm of his pace. The pressure in his abdomen seemed to jump in intensity, his attention having been caught up in Kylo more than himself, and when he focused, digging his fingers deeper in the man’s damp hair, one hand now clawing at his shoulder, Hux felt it peak. He let out a wordless cry, arching up, rocking down on Kylo’s cock and trying to push up into the man’s hand, chasing the pleasure that made his legs quake and slip loosely down Kylo’s hips.

That seemed to be what Kylo needed, his body shuttering in the wake of Hux’s climax, an abrupt, likely loud gasp at Hux’s neck came just as Kylo’s hips thrust hard and deep against Hux’s ass, jittering with quick, shallow beats as Kylo filled him for the nth time that night, soft grunts rumbling between them with each tiny, subsequent thrust.

Much like before, after riding out the high, they simply relaxed into the afterglow, rushing breath gradually trying to regulate as they pulsed with the receding pleasure of their orgasms.

Gentle and feather-like, Kylo turned to brush his lips at the slick skin of Hux’s neck, possibly the ribbon when the pressure was there but not the sensation. Hux eased Kylo back with a light tug on his hair, trailing his own lips across the man’s cheek as he pulled back.

Soon they seemed to have found themselves in the same position as before, staring and breathing and drowning in something simply unnamable, like there was a resonance between them that was far different from the music that trembled the air. Kylo brought his hand to Hux’s neck again, and let his fingers trail the ribbon, staring, the depths of his dark eyes deep and indecipherable. Yet even in them, there was… _something_. Something unspoken, something real and important and Hux thought so much he could imagine the impossible whisper of ‘mine’ on Kylo’s lips, though they didn’t move.

When their eyes locked again, Hux thought the word was there in Kylo’s gaze. It couldn’t be, of course. They were strangers, sharing a long, passionate night where time actually seemed meaningless, but..strangers nonetheless. Still, Hux wished it was there. He wished it could be, and that if it were, they could make it true. Hux would be Kylo’s in a heartbeat, and from the way the man looked at him, the way his fingers continued to trail the ribbon and brush his sweat-slick skin, Hux was certain Kylo wouldn’t mind being his.

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

A soft, weighty nudge against Hux’s chest was what brought him back to reality, real sleep having finally come over them both in the aftermath of the bliss-filled night. Hux glanced down, finding Kylo’s head pillowed on him, his arms wrapped tight around Hux’s hips and his long legs tangled up with his own. His fingers were limp in Kylo’s mussed hair, the fuzzy memory of stroking through it as they’d drifted coming back to him now as he started up again like he’d never stopped. The sensation seemed to register faintly with the man as Kylo nestled closer; his hold was a bit possessive, and yet innocent, like a child hugging his favorite toy as he slept. Hux turned a little more into the embrace, fingers running through Kylo’s hair and his other hand tracing patterns on the man’s bare skin.

Even without seeing the chronometer on the modest though now messy sidetable behind him, Hux could tell it was later than he’d intended to stay. However, considering the lack of sound it was early enough to slip out without being spotted by too many of the few people who rose with the new day.

Kylo murmured softly, his cheek, his lips, the tip of his long nose brushing Hux’s skin. The action sent a pang of longing through Hux, which swiftly became one of sadness knowing he had to leave, to sneak away before his beautiful stranger could wake and pull him down into something Hux wasn’t allowed to have any longer. And he  _would_  fall. So so easily. 

Being as careful as he could, Hux eased his way out from under the man, shifting a pillow into those thick, warm arms he already missed in the hopes Kylo wouldn’t wake too soon at the feeling of emptiness in his embrace.

He dressed as swiftly and quietly as he could, refusing to look back, especially when he heard another soft sound, this one verging just slightly on distress. Hux had to restrain a groan of sympathy, tightening his boots and straightening his tunic. He wished he’d brought a jacket to better hide himself in the revealing light of morning while he made his way back to the speeder he’d surreptitiously borrowed from the palace. Hopefully no one had noticed his extended absence in the flurry of arrival to Naboo yesterday afternoon. If he were quick enough, he’d beat the droid promised to deliver breakfast to his temporary quarters, the ones that were too lush and too suggestive of his impending fate.

Hux’s hand hesitated at the door, the panel just beneath his hovering palm. It was like a string was tugging him, a draw he couldn’t quite deny, beckoning him to steal one last glance of his stranger, some part of him wishing to soak up everything he could of this encounter, one that had somehow become so much more than a one night stand, his Last Hurrah before a thoroughly unwanted marriage to a very different stranger, a force-wielding Prince with a supposedly spoiled attitude only subdued by his apparently attractive looks.

Weak, just like his father always asserted, Hux did look back, finding Kylo pressed in close to the pillow he’d snuck into the man’s arms. His unconventional features were no longer as relaxed and lovely, but scrunched, like a bad dream was pressing down on his unconscious thoughts. Hux wanted to soothe it away, he wanted to wake the man and see if it were actually his absence that worried his dark brow, but he couldn’t. He  _had_  to leave.

A whisper, something low and delicate and sounding far too much like ‘ _Ari,_ ’ like the vibrating murmur Kylo had brushed along his ear, across his skin, against his lips, floated through the room. That was what forced Hux to smack his palm against the panel and rush out, his cheeks flushed and stomach churning with butterflies of affection and sorrow, little half moons being carved into his palms as he raced away.

The only small bit he allowed himself to think on was how he’d left the blood red strip of fabric around his neck, the faux ribbon having remained tied in a sweet, damning, impossible bow the rest of the night. He wanted that tie and not the one he’d be sharing in a few days time. He wanted that union. He wanted  _Kylo_.

But he couldn’t have him. He couldn’t know what might have been.

Hux was the dutiful bastard son, and he was betrothed to Prince Ben of Naboo.

 

 

 **\---{{(** 0 **)}}---**

 

 

"Stop squirming, Brela, or I’ll undo it all," Hux warned, arching a brow at the girl in the mirror.

"No!" Brela spun hastily around in her seat, her long russet hair sweeping aside in the move and nearly upsetting Hux’s work more than her restless shifts. "Please please please, Armie, you do it best!  _Pleeeeaaasseeee_!"

Hux sighed at his sister’s pleas, her big eyes fluttering pathetically up at him. "You’re so spoiled," he tsked, gripping her head and turning her back toward the vanity mirror. "Sit still."

"I will," she nodded determinedly.

With a huff, Hux continued working on the intricate style, weaving in the golden ribbon she’d brought, nearly bouncing on her toes and begging for him to make her hair perfect for the ceremony that afternoon.

"Alright," Hux brushed her shoulders, "all done." 

She jumped off the cushioned stool, pressing up against the vanity and twisting her head this way and that to inspect the result of her brother’s work. Her cherub lips were beaming, round cheeks glowing and eyes bright; she’d been nothing but excited about this ceremony from the moment it had been announced. It was understandable. Brela really didn’t care too much about the reasoning behind the event, only that she could dress up in one of her nicer, more extravagant outfits, dance and eat fine foods, stay up well past her bedtime and play around with the other children. Hux couldn’t fault her for it, regardless of how he lamented the ceremony himself. Seeing his sister happy was the only good part of all this now.

Looking over, Hux regarded his younger brother, huddled up on the wide, black-sheeted bed with a mess of multicolored wires in his lap. He was quiet, as usual, his pale lips moving as he muttered inaudibly to himself. The boy must have sensed Hux watching, tipping his head up and giving Hux a soft, warm smile; something rare and only for himself or Brela. Unfortunately, while Hux could take solace in the delight of his sister, he couldn’t really think the same for his brother. Techie much preferred his solitude and assorted wires, playing in his dark room with whatever tech he could get his hands on. The boy was shy, too gentle and sweet by far for his father to care much about, and being born premature and sickly hadn’t helped him develop any form of extroverted traits as he grew. Techie was eleven now, taller and thinner than most boys his age, and despite Brela being five years his junior, Hux often tasked her with looking out for the boy. Though the girl tended to do that without prompting nonetheless, she was far more outgoing than either of her brothers.

If Hux were to be truly honest with himself, Techie and Brela were really the only things that made Hux’s life remotely enjoyable.

"It’s perfect, Armie!" Brela exclaimed suddenly, lunging for him before Hux could realize what was happening, knocking the pair of them over and onto the floor.

"Ela, careful!" Techie shouted, jumping toward the edge of the bed and pouting at the giggling girl. "You’ll mess up Armie’s clothes and hair."

"It’s fine, Techie, I’m fine." He eased up, sitting with Brela in his lap, the layers of her gown – gold, cream, and soft blue fabric both fine and thick – were puffed out like a cloud. She’d chosen the outfit specifically to match as best as possible with Hux’s own attire. 

Wearing a near exasperated expression, Brela draped her thin arms around Hux’s neck, the long waves of her hair brushing her lower back even with so much coiffed atop and behind her head.

"Don’t worry so much,  _William_ ," Brela rolled her eyes, "Armie’s always perfect."

Techie frowned at his given name while Hux merely scoffed, wrapping his arms around the girl and carefully standing, bouncing Brela to adjust his hold and keep her steady. She’d always loved to be carried, claiming Hux was so so tall it was almost like flying. It was ridiculous, obviously, but still brought a smile to his typically irritated or indifferent countenance.

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, Ela, I’m hardly perfect."

She leaned back in his arms, giving him a sharp and appraising look, one she reserved for people she found were being particularly stupid. She was smart beyond her years, much like her older brothers, and like Hux she had a piercing set of eyes that could cut to the bone. Hux arched a brow at that, always inwardly proud even when it was turned on him.

"Don’t be dumb just cause you’re angry with father."

"My apologies, ma’am," Hux drawled sarcastically as he set Brela down by the door. She pouted at his tone, but Hux beat her to any upcoming remark. "I need to finish getting ready now, and you two really need to be going yourselves. Maratelle will be looking for you, I’m sure. If you stay hidden too long she’ll send Tessin after you."

Techie groaned, having appeared at Brela’s side just as quietly as usual.

"I miss the nanny bot," Brela's pout deepened, her face scrunched up with annoyance.

"Yes, well, if  _someone_  hadn’t hacked it so often maybe you’d still have it to do your bidding." Hux side-eyed Techie who flushed a rosy pink, glancing down to his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

"It was fun though," Brela grinned, taking one of Techie’s nervous hands and giving it a squeeze, the boy nodding back to her in agreement. 

For such a timid, solitary child Techie could be quite the terror when he wished to, especially with the far more outgoing and bold Brela at his side. There were times Hux wondered what the three of them could have wrought if Hux weren’t the far older and dutiful elder son, twenty-four and still too smart for his own good. Being a bastard made it even more important to keep himself in his father’s good graces, or at least as much as possible when the man hated him on principle already. 

With a sigh, Hux pulled open one of the doors to his guestroom. "Alright, alright," he said, ushering them off, "it’s really time to go now."

Brela rolled her eyes. " _Fine_ ," she huffed, confidently twisting on her heel and tugging at Techie to follow along with her. However, she’d only taken two steps past the threshold when she turned back and peered over her shoulder, that stare of hers set on Hux. "You’re the best and the prettiest, Armie. Don’t let father or mother or even the Prince tell you different. I know best," she grinned proudly, "pretty things are my specialty."

Techie smiled up at Hux as well, bright but quiet, again nodding his strong agreement with his sister. Hux eyed them, uncertain how to respond to Brela’s little monologue and their matching grins. Only another second had passed before Brela was tugging Techie forward again, the pair finally making their way down the hall to join their mother.

Once they were out of sight, Hux shut the door, shaking his head. For a six-year-old Brela could be very perceptive, and already being so willing to speak her mind didn’t help when she decided to foist her observations on others. Particularly Hux, since Brela had picked up on a few of his hidden insecurities over the years. One of which she was very adamant to put to rest whenever it cropped up was Hux’s self-esteem; the physical attributes branch of it was the easiest bit for her to latch onto.

The three of them were all ginger, in their own way. Little Techie’s hair was a glistening red-gold, long, always a bit on the messy side, and of a paler shade than it could be due to his lack of sun and sickly constitution. His skin was very fair and relatively flawless, lashes thin and blond, and bruises beneath his perpetually redlined, vivid blue eyes. Brela had rich auburn waves, thick and unendingly perfect, lashes as full and red, and eyes just a shade lighter than the sparkling sapphire of her older brother. She was fair-skinned, delicate and flushed with a rosy tint, speckled all over with light ginger freckles. Now Hux’s hair, unlike that of his siblings, was vibrant, like fire. Pure, brilliant, and impossibly eye-catching in a way neither of his siblings’ was. Hux hated it. He hated the red-gold flutter of his lashes, the creamy porcelain pallor of his skin, how faint ginger freckles touched his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and curve of his shoulders, a few sporadically placed elsewhere on his too tall and too thin frame. Not flawless like his brother, nor attractively dusted like his sister. As much as he appreciated her attempts to reassure him, Brela was his sister, his six-year-old sister who adored him and had followed Hux around like a puppy exactly as Techie had since their respective infancy.

Hux stopped before the long mirror outside the ridiculously wide closet, the thing merely one-fourth full of his own apparel, his  _entire_  set, every piece he owned brought to what would become his new home. Though it wouldn’t be this room, Hux knew. He was sure he’d be made to stay with his husband-to-be.

A grimace darkened Hux’s expression, the mirror reflecting his displeasure, the fire this whole situation ignited in him was licking along his skin, so far out from his core his cheeks were flushed with it. Hells, perhaps even his hair—already likened to a flame—was brighter as well. But, rather than burst, Hux made to calm himself. Taking a few deep, palliative breaths, his fists clenching rhythmically as he worked on tempering his anger, Hux watched the flair in his green eyes settle and his face lighten back to the fair porcelain he knew all too well. He hated what he had been forced into, but he couldn’t risk emotion cracking his control tonight. Not tonight. He had plenty of years to be passive-aggressive as all fuck to every person stupid enough to get in his face, particularly his infuriating father and Force damned husband-to-be.

Speaking of Prince Ben, Hux looked down at the sleek black box resting on the vanity. It was delivered to him as a gift by smiling servants singing the Queen and Prince’s praises, but Hux knew better. The box only held another piece meant to secure him irrevocably into his life sentence.

Hux lifted the lid, putting it quietly aside, and then slowly, hesitantly, he drew away the sleek fabric encasing the gift, revealing one of many preposterous torments for the evening. Staring up at him with unseeing eyes, cushioned by blood red silk, was a mask, skin paler than Hux’s own but flawless the way he wished his could be. The mold was vague enough that he couldn’t be recognized, not really, but close enough that it could fit comfortably for several hours over his own features. 

The eyes were colorless, the irises outlined in black. The lids were lined with blue, the corners touched by gold, a dusting of it going around the sides from the ends of the brows to the curve of the still high cheekbones. Touching just beneath them were dots of the same azure shade, a vertical line of it bisecting the bottom lip, a thicker one on the top while the rest of the full lips were painted a rosy pink, a very subtle glow of that flush on the cheeks. The piece was soft and beautiful, beautiful in a way Hux was not. As much as he hated having to use it, Hux found himself wishing he could emulate the mask, steal the attractive changes that could make him better. It was absurd to think it, but a part of Hux couldn’t help but fear he would be a let down to his betrothed. He had never seen Prince Ben, let alone met him, but from what he’d heard the man was considered very attractive and desirable. The announcement of his marriage had broken many hearts, apparently.

He trailed the tips of his fingers along the mask, so smooth to the touch, his thumb tracing the full, glossy lips and wondering how the shape could be so accurate yet somehow so much nicer than his own.

With a heavy, almost broken sigh, Hux gently took up the mask and turned it, watching the durasteel grey of the underside come closer. Hovering it carefully over his face, lining it up as best as he was able, the mask settled into place with a steady forward motion that tugged it from his hand, pressing carefully along his skin in every place the mask was meant to touch. In spite of the relatively archaic nature of the ceremony, Hux was pleased the masks they were forced to endure were so high tech and, impressively, rather incredibly well made, all things considered.

Hux stared at himself, glad to find that the eyes were, in fact, completely translucent despite the opaque appearance on the front, allowing him full sight. Eyeing the scrunched bits of his hair, Hux brought away the fringe and reset it, arranging it as close to before, the bits now draping over the top of the mask as though it were his own forehead and not a façade. Turning his head, inspecting himself, Hux could see his sideburns were visible, and the tinsel bits of red and silver delicately spun into his hair were still in place and undisturbed. It was a bit unnecessary in his opinion, but at least the overall outfit wasn’t too over the top. Hux knew he was dressed to match Prince Ben to some degree, and from what he’d heard of the man, about half the time he tended toward more extravagant attire, so Hux was pleased to find he wasn’t made to look too...well, just too much.

Running his hand along the high, split V collar, the likewise high, slightly ruched ivory tunic the V exposed, Hux imagined he could feel the ribbon of fabric tied around his neck. The choice to do so had to have been the most nonsensical decision he’d ever made about anything, yet when he’d dressed earlier Hux found himself picking up the blood red bit. It strangely made Hux feel a little more comfortable, maybe a little more confident to survive the evening. Kylo tying that faux ribbon around Hux’s neck was the most peculiar and intimate moment of Hux’s life, the look in the man’s gaze as he’d tied the bow, staring at it, at Hux, boring into his eyes. He’d felt something then, not just that entire night, but right then. Hux hadn’t the slightest idea what it was beyond something he’d never experienced, and afterward, the entire next day and the next and the day after that Hux was certain he’d never find that with anyone else.

 _Stars_ , he  _had_  to stop thinking about this. Pushing the ribbon from his mind—though not removing it, he couldn’t bring himself to remove it, not yet—and smoothing down the front of his coat, trailing the gilded hem lining, the tiny clasps hidden, Hux felt the deep breath rise in his chest and rush steadily out.

"Let’s get this over with," Hux murmured, the moment odd, hearing his voice but seeing the mouth before him remain still and rosy, dabbed in blue rouge.

He nodded to himself and turned, pace already even and sure, his gloved hands laced at his back. The future was coming, and as much as he loathed it, he was going to meet it with his chin up, his control intact, and his mind well secured.

His husband-to-be  _was_  a Force damned mind reader, after all.

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

So far the ceremony had been a bit of a blur.

Hux remembered entering the room; enormous, elegant, and so full it was unexpectedly easier to drown out and ignore than if there had been the minimum he had earlier much preferred. Rather than attempt to acknowledge anything or anyone around him, Hux merely narrowed his attention down to the man at the altar – tall, broad, and masked just as Hux was. His attire was much as Hux’s as well, simple but still somehow Nabooian, certainly far more elegant than Arkanisian high society. However, while Hux’s attire was predominantly champagne and ivory, Ben’s ensemble – the sleek robe-like coat with its long draping sleeves split at the upper arm, the tunic beneath, high at his neck and covering his thick arms to just past the wrist, his tailored trousers, and, finally, the mid-calf boots – were all of them black. But rather than accented with gold, Prince Ben’s was red, and the closer Hux got, he noted the tinsel woven into the man’s thick hair was threads of gold and the same rich sapphire that was detailing his own mask, likely to complement Hux, just as Hux had silver and red, apparently to complement Ben.

Ben’s mask was painted near identically to Hux’s own, but with crimson rouge and dots on his cheekbones, a thin slide across the porcelain eyelids with a thick one of black kohl above it and one along the bottom. There was a dusting of silver rather than the gold Hux’s mask had, though the soft, light flush of rose along the cheeks and coloring the plump lips was the same.

Beyond the odd, strangely familiar little tilt of the man’s head at Hux’s appearance and fully turning to face him when Hux reached his side, extending his large, black gloved hands to hold Hux’s own, Ben hadn’t moved or made any further acknowledgement of him. He was a tall, thick, lovely doll staring at Hux with big, colorless, black-lined irises, plump lips that never smiled or frowned, and waves of long dark hair, blue and gold laced along with small, intricate braids and nearly an inch away from touching broad shoulders. The mask itself Hux knew was vague enough to obscure what his true features were, but as he was now, Hux thought he was beautiful, just as all the reports of Prince Ben claimed.

Now, Hux was lost. Staring and wondering, half there and half gone as words were recited around him, even long, smooth phrases of union and commitment from his own lips. Hux nearly jolted when their linked hands were touched by the officiator’s, his thoughts having been busy appreciating that, despite being strangers—and possibly having a horrid and/or boring personality—at least his husband was aesthetically pleasing, possessing a few of the qualities Hux himself enjoyed in a partner. Looking down, Hux watched as a long, blood red ribbon was slowly twined around their wrists, their held hands, and tied in a bow, the rest of the length reaching near to the floor. When Prince Ben gently drew Hux’s hands up, Hux did startle, faintly but there, and exhaled a heavy breath as he felt the soft touch of what Hux could swear was a real pair of lips on his knuckles. It took a second, but Hux quickly caught up to the moment and followed suit, kissing Ben’s own, chaste and soft, then bringing their hands back down between them. A tingle of inexplicable warmth left on his lips.

The officiator was loud in his ear as he announced the union between Prince Ben and Armitage Hux, though with far more titles for Ben along with the reminder that Hux was no longer a Hux, not really, but now a Solo, a Skywalker, a Nabberie. Yet without any of the royalty or respect that came with them. Hux supposed, in a way, he was still of his own family name and social standing, just without the name itself—actually, it was likely even less, especially considering his family wasn’t exactly the most well-liked.

With everything as far as his marriage was concerned now passed, the guests were informed that the reception would begin soon and to please clear out of the hall while the grand space was prepared for expensive food, drink, and dancing that would encompass the rest of the long, long,  _long_  night. As the people trickled out, large clumps traveling bit by bit through the thick double doors, Hux and Ben were left to wait on the altar until nearly all the guests had left before their hands were freed and they were then ushered out themselves.

Luckily, at least for the moment, neither of them were forced to linger awkwardly in each other’s company while they waited. Not exactly, anyway. They stood beside one another, but both were spoken to mostly by the various guests, allowing them to ignore each other for the time being, and, to a degree, their situation.

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

They were already two hours in, and so far all Hux and his new husband had been doing was continue to greet and chat amicably with the many many guests, each one hoping for a chance to shake their hands and assure the pair of them knew their faces and families. Hux was worn before the reception had even begun, but now he was glad for the mask simply so he didn’t have to try and school his face into something so far beyond his true feelings it would physically ache to sustain. Hux suspected Ben felt likewise, but vocally he seemed respectful and calm with everyone. He wasn’t of many words, and hardly animated, but nothing about his responses or mannerisms were angered, dismissive, or otherwise exhibiting any distaste. But Hux could tell—reading micro-expressions and subtle movements was a talent of his—and Ben had been growing increasingly more tense as time went on, the faintest strain to his low, smooth voice and a subtle rigidity in his actions. 

Hux wasn’t sure why he’d spent so much time taking note of the man, particularly when he’d told himself he would keep as distant as he conceivably could in this marriage. The only reason Hux could come up with to be such a lure for his attention was the physical similarity to his dark stranger a week ago, his last taste of freedom, his last real choice. It was stupid of him to be so drawn to a one night stand, especially one he’d barely spoken to, couldn’t really do so if he’d tried anyway considering the pulse of the music leaking through the thin walls. Yet still, Hux found himself not only coming back to thoughts of that night, but of the man himself, each touch, each breath, the exhales that were words he could hardly decipher. The brush of ‘ _Ari’_  at his ear or across his skin making his spine tingle. Hux’s fingers drew up toward his neck, unconsciously attempting to glide along the ribbon concealed beneath. 

"Armie!"

Hux jolted out of his thoughts, his hand dropping almost guiltily, and glanced down, finding Brela at his side, tugging at his clothing. He smiled at her as best he could without disrupting the mask, knowing the girl couldn’t see it, but with how she beamed back up at him he was sure she imagined the expression nonetheless.

"What is it?" 

"Can you play now? I want to dance and Techie won’t come with me!"

He was about to agree, never really able to deny her, when he remembered himself. Hux looked over to his new husband to find Ben staring back at him, head tilted just slightly.

"Do you mind?" Hux asked.

Ben glanced down to Brela, then back to him, before giving a nod.

"I appreciate it." Hux inclined his head in thanks, voice soft, typically unfamiliar with genuine gratitude, especially for a stranger. Husband or no.

"Come on!" Brela hauled him away as soon as she was sure Hux was free, drawing him eagerly toward the dance floor filled with couples of all sorts in myriad fashions of far too many types and colors for the eye to handle.

Without being asked, Hux leaned down and scooped Brela up into his arms, one beneath her while his other took her small hand in his and imitated a waltz along with the rest. She laughed, cheeks flushed with excitement, curls bouncing, the sound of her laugh and round glow of her smile reminded Hux that his sister was still only six years old. He often forgot her real age whenever she opened her mouth or directed such intelligent expressions on him or others.

"Hey," she chimed, "look over there." She pointed toward a far wall where only a few people lingered and saw Techie leaning against it. But, unexpectedly, his brother wasn’t alone. Another boy was beside him, a bit taller and certainly bigger compared to Techie’s thin frame, with blond curls and a looming presence, pushing into Techie’s space.

"Who’s that?"

"His name’s Matt, he’s some cousin or other of Prince Ben’s."

"Cousin?" The only cousin Hux was aware of was little Rey Skywalker. Curious, he observed the interaction between the two boys, eyes slightly narrow, though Techie didn’t really look as if he wished to be saved like Hux would have expected. "What else do you know about him?"

"He can be loud and intense sometimes. Rey and Finn say he throws fits a lot, getting in trouble and stuff." Brela shrugged, "he seemed kinda quiet and shy to me, but did look really mad when the others teased him. Then he stormed off, knocking some things off a table."

"Hm," Hux intoned, considering, "that’s not really someone I want Techie around."

"Yeah, when I saw Matt talking to Techie I was going to go over and tell him to  _go away_ ," Brela scowled, her eyes sharp before she brushed off the expression, "but he was just talking and smiling and stuff. And Techie didn’t look uncomfortable."

Hux spun them closer toward the area to steal a better view. Indeed, the little blonde was grinning, a pair of ill-fitting glasses in front of big eyes that were locked on his brother. And his brother, Hux blinked in surprise, Brela giggling as he did, was smiling himself, looking down at his feet but his head was tilted toward Matt.

"Well well," Hux said, Brela sniggering again and leaning closer to Hux, wisps of hair at her cheeks brushing Hux’s ear. "It looks like Techie made a friend."

"Little Techie’s growing up!"

Hux snorted, arching a brow she couldn’t see. "You do realize you’re six, right?"

"And I’ve had more friends than there are people Techie’s talked to."

"That’s an exaggeration." Barely.

" _Barely_ ," Brela drawled with a roll of her big blue eyes, as if reading his mind.

The people around them started up another dance, something too complicated for Hux to imitate with little Brela in his arms. He probably needed to return to his..husband anyway. While he hardly knew Ben it wasn’t exactly fair to abandon him to the masses, plus he’d looked tense already before Hux left, being on his own probably didn’t help much.

Brela gasped, jerking in his arms. "Rey!" she shouted.

"Don’t yell," Hux chastised lightly, but he set her down at the edge of the dance floor, watching as she ran off to join the little group of lively, attractive children. The tallest and so possibly oldest, an unfamiliar boy with thick curls of brown hair was ushering them toward an open set of glass doors while the girls giggled and Finn followed like a grinning puppy after them all.

Hux looked around once Brela and the others were out of sight, searching now for the tall, broad form of his husband. Rather than back where they’d once stood, Hux instead found Ben off to a corner with his mother, the Queen Leia Amidala, small and well dressed but still somehow imposing before her much larger son. She appeared mildly exasperated, and Ben had his arms crossed, the tilt of his head suggesting to Hux that Ben was rolling his eyes, possibly pouting too considering the slight hunch of his shoulders. It was the first time since interacting with the man that Ben seemed at all like the spoiled Prince he was rumored to be at times.

Suddenly, Ben’s head tipped up and turned fully in his direction, staring him down like he could sense Hux’s eyes on him from across the room. Even without the real ones being visible it felt intense, perhaps a little more so simply  _because_  of the emotionless gaze of the mask. Hux instinctively wanted to turn away, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the man, not here. Feeling a bit resigned, Hux refreshed the control of his emotions, always having a tendency to let them slip whenever in the company of his siblings, and headed over.

"Queen Leia," Hux greeted the woman, coming to an easy stop at Ben’s side, hands lacing behind his back.

She looked on him, sharp-eyed for a moment, before giving a cordial smile. "Armitage, it’s been a while."

"It has. And how are you?"

"Excellent, thank you." She inclined her head respectfully, perhaps a bit passive-aggressively even, flicking a glare at her son before she swept away, as poised and graceful as in everything she did.

Once she was seemingly out of earshot, Ben released a long, heavy sigh. Hux turned to look at him, noticing how his large body slumped a bit more, like he’d deflated.

"Are you alright?" Hux asked, the words surprising him.

Ben looked up, straightening after a moment. 

For a time, Ben didn’t say anything, simply continued to stare with those dead eyes, again his head tilted just ever so slightly. And once more Hux felt a twinge of familiarity. But before Hux could think on it any further, Ben gave another light sigh and extended his hand. 

"Would you like to dance?"

Hux gaped, not that Ben could see. He glanced down to Ben’s hand, long, thick fingers curled loosely in wait.

"Uh," Hux intoned softly, internally kicking himself for doing so, "yes, yes of course." He slipped his hand into Ben’s and followed his lead when the man steered him toward the dance floor, couples swaying and twirling with complex steps, the guests along the way parting for them as they went. 

The moment their feet touched the dance floor Ben took up Hux’s hand in a swift, easy movement, his arm slipping smoothly around Hux’s waist and pulling him in close, but not too close. They were gliding into the center before Hux’s brain could catch up, Ben leading so gracefully Hux hadn’t really noticed what was happening, nor how effortlessly he fell in step with the rhythm.

"So," Ben started, twirling Hux out and around and then drawing him back in, "what should I call you?"

"Well...' Hux paused briefly, having not expected such a request, "for several years now most people called me Hux, outside my father’s company that is." Hux slid his gloved palm along Ben’s shoulder, contemplating his answer further, one he’d been avoiding himself. "But, I suppose I’m no longer a Hux, if ever I was one."

Ben’s head tilted slightly but Hux ignored the question it presented.

"All that’s left is Armitage, then."

"Not Armie?"

Hux narrowed his eyes at the subtle tease. "That name is for my siblings use and no one else."

"Not even your husband?"

"Especially not."

A soft huff of air came from the man, a chuckle surely, before they twisted their hips and steps opposite each other, moving one way then the other. Hux watched as Ben spun, seemingly taking charge despite Hux’s rightful place as the one to prompt the move—not that he remembered though—, and then came back to do the same for Hux, his hands returning seamlessly to where he held Hux close.

"I like A names," Ben said when they rejoined. 

Hux exhaled a laugh himself at the peculiar comment. 

"What?" Ben’s head was tipped again, too endearing and familiar for Hux to ignore. Though it was now becoming hard to say if that was due to his continuing déjà vu or because of Ben.

"That’s just a rather odd thing to say. Was it meant to be a remark of general interest or a compliment?" 

"Hm," Ben hummed, thoughtful, "a bit of both, I suppose."

Hux grinned in spite of himself, pleased that his new husband found something of him to like, pleased even though as they danced so naturally together Hux still had Kylo sitting in the back of his mind. A perpetual comparison and source of relief to the anger and tension created by his circumstances.

"Why don’t you tell me something then?" Ben asked.

"What sort of something? General yet complimentary?" 

"If you’d like."

It was difficult to say whether Ben was being casual about the request or truly sought an answer, but Hux felt compelled to give one. Perhaps out of genuine interest in pleasing his husband, or perhaps in the hopes of receiving further praise, more hints that Ben might not find him uninteresting or unpleasant. Unattractive. Unsatisfying.

"Alright," Hux forced Ben back three steps, quick and confident, "I’ve always liked dark hair." Ben spun them around in a tight circle, pulling Hux close before dipping him slowly, their bodies lined against one another’s, Ben’s hand moving along Hux’s spine before abruptly tugging him up in a swift jerk and then shifting back into the more relaxed steps.

"I like tall men."

Hux grinned, "as do I."

"Intelligence, confidence," Ben leaned in, "stubbornness," he spoke with a grin, "I happen to enjoy those qualities." 

"Well, I can’t deny that I have those. But you’re forgetting arrogance easily replaces them all." Hux then shrugged, looking off to the side, catching sight of his brother and Matt. "What about cold, cruel, power hungry? Selfish, heartless?" Weak, useless, too thin, too pale, too soft. A dreadful little  _Bastard_. Hux was glad his face was concealed, the pain and anger hidden, though he kept his head turned still, as if hiding.

"Why do you say that?" Ben asked after a few long seconds passed, his low voice softer than ever.

"Ask anyone."

"Anyone?"

Hux’s brow furrowed and he looked back to Ben, finding him staring.

"What if I ask him?" Ben tipped his head over, right toward where Hux had been looking, right toward little Techie standing shyly with Matt. "What if I ask your brother? Your sister?" Ben turned back to Hux, "would they say the same?"

"They’re children," Hux pressed, confused.

"All the more reason, then."

"Why are—"

"I saw how you were with your sister, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find it much the same with your brother. Truly heartless men can’t be so warm, especially with children."

Hux’s eyes narrowed, finding himself wavering between offense and appreciation, cheeks hot and surely flushed though he couldn’t say for which reason it was.

"People can fake anything with enough skill."

"True," Ben said, turning them again, moving them closer to the edge of the dance floor, Techie and Matt now easy to observe. "But I happen to be rather good at reading people."

"Is that so?"

"You tell me? I suspect you’re rather adept at doing so yourself."

The pair of them continued staring one another down, quiet and contemplative, Hux trying to read what he could without any face to draw from. Without any benefit of the Force as Ben surely had. Several seconds passed, and finally Hux sighed, huffing out a chuckle.

"You’re not much of the spoiled brat I’d been told you were," Hux remarked, shifting the subject from himself to Ben.

"Well," Ben shrugged lightly, "we are all more than one layer."

This time Hux tilted his head, appraising, considering. "I suppose you’re right."

Ben hummed, switching his lead with Hux, then back, then trading again, then quickly snatching the lead once more and forcing Hux to step back, much as Hux had to Ben earlier.

Breaking the silence, Hux asked, "why A names?"

The question seemed to startle Ben, his attention jerking to settle directly on Hux; even with the mask not being turned away Hux could tell Ben hadn’t initially been focused on him. Hux wondered if his eyes were wide, or lips parted. He wondered if those lips were really as full as the mask suggested, wondered what color his big eyes were. Kylo had had dark eyes, possibly brown or black, maybe even a dark shade of green; it had been difficult to tell with the lighting, but Hux had been drowning in them nonetheless.

"Why the curiosity?"

"Why not?"

Ben turned away, probably speculating whether he wanted to answer. Hux wondered why the hesitance, but didn’t pry. He had his own secrets, after all.

"I know..knew someone whose name started with an A. I… I guess I just equate other ones to more…pleasant emotions."

It was odd. A flutter in Hux, centered deep in his chest and prickling at the back of his thoughts at Ben’s revelation. Something close to jealousy, perhaps close to envy.

"What happened to them?"

"Uh…I don’t know, actually," Ben chuckled, weak and sheepish, his grips flexing.

"You miss them?"

"Yeah, I do."

Hux eyed the man, his husband, head tilted down just slightly, grips lighter, body looser. "Did you love them?"

Ben looked up sharply, his hold suddenly strong again. "I, uhm… No..? Maybe..? ..I don’t know. Something like that, I guess."

It hurt actually, just a bit, knowing that Ben had someone he cared for, someone he still grieved for. Hux wondered if he could ever come to matter more—he wondered when he started hoping Ben would care for him at all. Although, Hux very much understood Ben’s feelings. All too well, really. As Ben spoke, Hux couldn’t help thinking of Kylo, wondering on what could have happened if Hux hadn’t been betrothed, if when they’d met there could have been more; more than one night, more than a whispered name.

"If it makes you feel any better," Hux began, murmuring, "there was someone I..cared for. I also don’t know where they are, but if..if…"

"Yeah," Ben said gently.

The music had changed yet again, the guests swaying around them, surely curious as to why the pair had stopped and yet pretending not to gawk all the while, floating around them instead, an elegant sculpture circled by a sea of shifting color. Neither of them moved, hands still outstretched, bodies still close yet not too close. Hux wondered if he’d broken, or at least strained, whatever understanding had been building between them, even if they were on a sort of common ground, bringing up someone cared for and lost. Lost perhaps because of their predicament in fact, which surely wouldn’t help matters. It was very easy to grow resentful, and regardless of whether Hux was behind their arranged marriage or not, he was practically the face of it for the man. A constant reminder now of what Ben could never have. And, unfortunately, Hux supposed Ben was the same for him.

Hux couldn’t seek a future with Kylo, and Ben couldn’t find one with his A.

What a pair they made.

 

 **\---{{(** ○  **○**  ○ **)}}---**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Hux's POV for this piece! The next and last chapter is a little shorter, but all Kylo (◕ᴗ◕)
> 
> What did you guys think of Brela, my sister oc for Hux? I really liked her, and may use her again in future fics ♡ She's just so.. _adorable_ , i want to sqwuish her, but i'm pretty sure only her brothers get that honor..and she's more of a sqwuisher than a sqwuishe anyway... (ರ ~ ರ) On a slightly different note; humorously, i actually named her Breha in the beginning, until i realized why that name had come to me so easily...it was Leia's adoptive mother's name. I wanted to keep the same general look and feel of Breha, and ended up with Brela, which i felt was better actually since it combines Brendol and Maratelle.  
>  
> 
>  _Anyways_ … my tumblr is [nonsensicalsoliloquy](http://nonsensicalsoliloquy.tumblr.com) and my [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nonsensicalsoliloquy) is under the same name, in case anyone is interested, and as always any and all forms of love are very much appreciated!! <3


	2. Kylo Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay, so, i was _really_ surprised and pleased at the response the first chapter got!!! i was actually kind of uncertain about this little fic, but it seems my worries were unfounded (◕ᴗ◕✿) i very much hope this second and last chapter lives up to everyone's hopes for our poor pining boys ❤
> 
> -
> 
> Again, here's the little [moodboard](http://nonsensicalsoliloquy.tumblr.com/post/168320480693/nonsensicalsoliloquy-tie-it-with-a-bow-kylux) thing i made for this piece! ❤
> 
> -

 

 **\---{{(** ○  **○**  ○ **)}}---**

 

Kylo had found another corner to lurk in after he’d finally gotten free of an attractive, albeit inanely talkative Twi’lek couple, their vibrant and excessive gowns having become eyesores just as strong as their endless chatter grating on his ears. His arms were crossed, fists tucked tight against his ribs in what he hoped was an intimidating enough posture even without the accompanying facial expression to pointedly telegraph his ‘do not approach on pain of death’ look, all in a desperate attempt to dissuade any passersby from approaching. And, with any luck, thereby dodge as many more ‘conversations’ as he was able. Plus, he was still a little put out from the dressing down his mother had given him earlier and would much rather be alone. Or as alone as was possible in his current situation.

It’s not as though he had anything against Armitage, he hardly knew him beyond rumors—which, having so many about himself, he knew not to take too much to heart—, but he had been feeling increasingly petulant as the date of his arranged marriage had approached. And waiting at that altar hit him hard, the reality that it was really happening more like a stab with his saber than a smack to the face. Now here he was. Officially married, officially trapped.

Armitage hadn’t been quite what he’d expected, though again he could admit he hadn’t formed too much of a picture in his mind, having been so intent on pretending none of it was happening and he’d escape in the end. Just like he always did. But Armitage was, Kylo supposed, a pleasant surprise. The little he saw of the man was appealing to him. He liked tall men, tending toward slender frames and lighter hair, gingers in particular though they weren’t all that common—red _was_ his favorite color after all, as childish as that was to factor in to his preferences. As far as personality went, Armitage’s demeanor appeared to change with those he interacted with – strangers, his siblings, _Kylo_ – it was interesting and rather reminded Kylo of himself. Admittedly, Kylo had wondered whether Armitage would ever develop a more specific behavior for him, one softer and warmer like the man had been with his siblings. The thought had surprised him initially, and brought with it a twinge of pain, like betrayal. He’d promised himself no matter what happened between he and his husband, Ari would always take precedence in his thoughts and actions around the man.

It was absurd to put so much into what amounted to little more than a one night stand, but Kylo couldn’t help it. There had been _something_ between them, something he just couldn’t quite put his finger on, something rare and tantalizingly unique, something Kylo knew he would never find again. Not ever. Even if he and Armitage developed a true affection for one another, perhaps even love, it would never be what he’d felt that night. Armitage would never be Ari.

Every time Kylo’s stranger crossed his mind he felt compelled to push him down, even if he’d rather not, but he knew to indulge in the memories and what ifs would significantly damage his mood and Armitage didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t responsible for their marriage, and Kylo could pick up a subtle resentment and resignation from him, though overall Armitage was difficult to get a read on. There was an odd, almost familiar impression that fluttered in and out around the man that continued to bring him pause, but Kylo could never latch on and decipher what it might be. The man was utterly Force null, but his presence was strong, compelling even, directing him back to Armitage over and over. It was likely nothing at all, and in fact might just be pure interest in the man that Kylo wouldn’t allow himself to fully acknowledge. If he had never met Ari, Kylo wondered—suspected, maybe—that he’d find himself pleased with Armitage in spite of their predicament.

A flash of red hair and the flutter of champagne fabric distracted Kylo, his posture easing as he tracked the ginger, his new husband. He was conversing with…Kylo honestly hadn’t the slightest idea who the old woman was. She looked like she might as well have been melting for how grand her numerous, sagging wrinkles were; her extravagant fitted gown actually accentuated her ancient appearance rather than detract or attempt to highlight whatever beauty she might have once possessed.

Armitage’s posture was straight and military-perfect, but there was something a bit too tight about it that betrayed his fatigue and impatience with his current fate, trapped in what was surely a one-sided conversation interspersed with short nods and absentminded agreements. Kylo smirked lightly, feeling a pang of sympathy. He was considering going over to rescue the man when he himself was approached from the corner of his eye.

"Hiding again, kid?"

Kylo sighed, the rough Force signature of his father brushing his own, uneven in a way he could never decide whether he didn’t mind or couldn’t stand. Despite fighting his desire to fidget in the wake of the older man’s appearance, he couldn’t help as his mind conjured up a spiteful remark, as if Han Solo was one to talk about hiding.

"Han," he greeted flatly instead, biting back his thoughts.

"Ben."

Predictably, nothing more followed, several seconds passing wherein neither of them moved or attempted another word in greeting. Poking his tongue at the inside of his cheek, fists balled tight against his ribs in annoyance, Kylo quickly realized Han wasn’t going to take the hint and leave him be. 

"Why are you here?" Kylo asked, breaking the tense silence.

Han shrugged. "You were moping, I figured I’d try and have a chat with you."

Kylo angled his head to fully face the older man, his posture incredulous and sardonic even without his face to display the emotions. "You mean mom told you to make sure I’m socializing."

"Maybe." Han glanced down, swirling the contents of his half-empty drink. "But I’m here, so..socialize."

With a roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh that Kylo intended to be heard very deliberately, he shifted to leaning against the alcove wall, arms still crossed. "I’m surprised you even showed up," he declared in a bland tone of voice, noting the slightly less casual attire Han wore.

"I wasn’t gonna miss my son’s wedding."

"It’s not a wedding, it’s a business transaction. Just with more food."

Han sighed himself, weary as he eyed Kylo. "Maybe so, kid, but you’re married all the same."

"So for the first time in, what, five years? You decide to show up to one of these stupid events?" He scoffed lightly, "of course you would, there’s plenty of alcohol and your son is miserable."

"Ben..."

Kylo raised a hand, staving off whatever the older man had been about to say. In truth, Kylo knew it wasn’t entirely fair of him to make the accusation, especially exaggerated like it was. Though it wasn’t entirely untrue either, but Kylo wasn’t in the mood to delve into his familial damage.

"So…socialize," Kylo drawled.

"Socialize."

Yet another uncomfortable span of time passed wherein neither of them made much attempt at conversation. Like father, like son, the pair of them weren’t exactly the best at it to begin with, and their strained, on and off relationship never did help repair that. Not that either of them were good at confrontation or working on their problems.

"What do you think of your new husband?"

Well that was on the nose. Kylo rose a shoulder in what he hoped was a nonchalant, loosely dismissive manner, his eyes back on the ginger. "He’s little more than a stranger. But..he’s alright, I suppose."

"Hn. That so."

Kylo looked to the older man again, finding him with a subtle expression that was much too close to amused for Kylo’s liking. "It is," he stated firmly.

"You seemed to find him a lot more than alright when you were out there," Han gestured to the dance floor, a soft Arkanisian waltz playing.

"What are you talking about? We were just dancing."

"Kid, there’s just dancing, and then there’s _dancing_. And _dancing_ is basically foreplay."

Scrunching his nose, Kylo pleaded, " _stars_ , do _not_ go there."

"You’re interested."

"I barely know him."

"And that matters?"

Kylo’s eyes narrowed, a flush rising warm on his cheeks. "Of course it does," he mumbled, the words a blatant lie.

"Listen Ben, I get that one of the requirements of this batty ceremony is that both parties gotta be virgins, or whatever." Han rolled his shoulders, glancing away in vague discomfort. "But I’m not stupid enough to think you haven’t had your fair share of one nighters."

Kylo groaned, the pained exhaled nearly a whine. "This is _not_ a conversation I want to be having."

"You think _I’m_ any more comfortable? Having the..the _sex talk_ with my kid?"

"This isn’t ‘the sex talk,’ it’s _a_ sex talk. And that’s hardly any better."

"Just shut up for a second," Han snapped, his growing discomfort like a cloud, enveloping the older man and forcing Kylo to feel a little on edge himself. Han sighed, shoving a hand in his pocket and attempting to make his actual point. "What I’m trying to get at is, falling for someone doesn’t necessarily require _knowing_ them. Sometimes..sometimes it just happens, and that doesn’t make it any better or worse than knowing them beforehand."

Looking away, hunching in on himself just slightly as he reclined against the wall, Kylo kind of wanted to smack himself for feeling such a strong connection to his father’s ‘words of wisdom.’ After a certain point in his youth, Kylo found that Han was full of crap far more than actual advice. He lived on luck to such a great extent it was almost a wonder the older man wasn’t force-sensitive. But, in this instance, Kylo could admit—only to himself, of course—that Han wasn’t far off. Not in the least. It’s just that Armitage wasn’t _quite_ the person that came to mind. Ari had been an unexpected burst of brilliance in his life that Kylo fell for at a frankly ridiculous rate. If he hadn’t realized in the beginning when they collided, he certainly would have when he tied that strip of torn fabric around the man’s neck. A faux ribbon, his own play at unity, red and long and tied in a bow, sealing a desire and a promise he couldn’t rightly make nor hope to keep.

"You’re mother and I were like that, you know."

Kylo sighed softly, Han’s own words low and reflective, Ari in his mind while his eyes settled on his husband several feet away and caught in yet another surely dull conversation. He felt oddly torn.

"Yeah, I know."

"Just give it a chance, Ben." Han dropped his hand on Kylo’s shoulder, squeezing tentatively before letting go with a pat. He’d only made it a step or two away when he turned his head back, remarking over his shoulder, "oh, if you’re mother asks—"

"We socialized. It was riveting. I’m a changed man. I know, I know."

Han scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. "Smartass."

"Nerf herder."

Kylo smirked as Han finally walked away, mumbling under his breath about something or other involving his mother and ‘being all alike.’

Abruptly, almost as if attached to a string, Kylo jerked straight and a little forward, Armitage having taken a few steps away from his latest trap, waving a hand toward the couple in parting. Kylo hadn’t realized how intently he’d been staring until that moment. Yet again he felt compelled to join the man, it had been some time now and he supposed he should save his new husband any more endless cordialities with the equally endless slew of guests. 

He’d only taken a few steps himself when a young man caught Armitage’s attention, greeting him much like all the others that evening had, but this one was standing a bit too close, his attention a bit too pointed to be a mere stranger or acquaintance like the majority were. It made Kylo surprisingly uneasy. Was that the man Armitage cared for? No…no, it couldn’t be. Armitage had said he didn’t know where the person was just as Kylo didn’t know Ari’s whereabouts. It must be someone else he knew, and with the way Armitage had lamented Kylo was sure it was a lover, as Ari had been to him. Which Kylo couldn’t help but feel implied that Armitage had possibly had more than one, not any more a virgin than Kylo himself was. So..could this man be…?

Kylo flexed his hands, the soft leather of his gloves keeping his palms clear of imprints. He was actually feeling jealousy. It was stunning just as much as it wasn’t.

With a deep breath, Kylo started up again, intent on introducing himself and gleaning whatever he could from the tall brunette in regards to his husband. _His_. … Stars, fuck, was he really thinking that now?

The strong push of a force-sensitive presence nearly didn’t register for Kylo until he practically collided with them. Her.

"Ben."

His mother.

Kylo winced, turning to look down at the imposing presence somehow managing to glare at him without the actual expression. "Mother."

"Sulking in another corner, I see. And alone. Again." The irritation was plain in her tone, her red rouged lips frowning, a stripe of matching crimson along with cream-colored kohl and a dusting of lilac adorning her now slightly narrowing eyes.

With a restrained exhale, Kylo crossed his arms tightly, hunching yet again, a posture he often adopted unconsciously when in the presence of the older woman. "I wasn’t sulking. I was taking a respite from inane conversation with people I’ve never met and never will again."

"Ben, we’ve talked about this. It’s important to make connections and stay approachable. One day you may well rule."

"Yippee."

She scowled, her Force signature sharpening as much as her gaze. "Don’t test me, Ben."

Kriff. Kylo hated that tone. The last time she’d used it she had grounded him, _literally_ , for two months. His ship was so heavily guarded not even _he_ could have managed to take off, let alone leave orbit, without altering _someone_. It was worse than the time when he was fourteen and she’d tried to introduce him to several well-bred girls of well-bred families and found him making out with the attractive older brother of one of them instead. It wasn’t the way he’d imagined telling his mother he liked guys, but, well, it stopped the courtships. For a year, anyway, then it was well-bred boys. He had only managed to stop that when he’d thrown a tantrum so intense he’d unintentionally flung one of those snobbish boys into a tree, knocking him unconscious and freaking the rest out. No more parties. But three uninterrupted years with Luke in the middle of kriffing nowhere.

Kylo groaned inaudibly to himself. Leia and her consequences…

Focusing on the older woman again, Kylo found her eyeing him with that uncomfortably piercing gaze of hers that never meant anything good if you had the wrong answers. At times he wondered if she was reading his surface thoughts, even though he knew that wasn’t one of her strong suits.

"Did your father speak with you?" she finally asked.

Kylo relaxed, straightening a little in his relief. "Yes yes, we talked. Obligation filled."

Leia sighed heavily, that exhausted droop of hers that only Kylo could seem to bring out. The thought stung. "Why can’t you two do something just _because_? Without needling."

"We enjoy torturing you. It’s our only mutual activity."

She scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I swear, you two…" She took a surprisingly long drink of the rosy cocktail she held, the flute stem so thin Kylo actually worried the older woman might snap it. "Just go find Armitage. There’s only an hour or so left before you two are to retire for the night."

Oh… Right.

His mother walked away, her gait frustratingly even despite her still palpable irritation, the flow of her simple yet elegant mauve and cream gown swaying delicately in her wake, though Kylo didn’t watch more than a second really. His thoughts had dipped. He was glad for the mask once again, his cheeks were flushed and his face undoubtedly displayed the nerves he felt rise up like a solid hit to the chest.

Kylo glanced back in the direction he’d last seen Armitage, but discovered that he and the tall brunette he’d been agonized by were gone. He scanned the crowd, searching for a crown of red, a strong presence, that indecipherable flutter. Kylo breathed with unnecessary relief when he spotted the man standing beside the opened glass doors, leaning along the wall. His sister was held comfortably in his arms again while his brother was by his leg, standing close and gripping a tail of Armitage’s long, robe-like coat in one hand. However, rather than hiding his face from the crowded room with the quiet timidity Armitage had described, the boy’s attention was turned away, looking to where Matt stood beside him much as he had most of the evening, still beaming and chatty and leaning perhaps a little too close. It was surprising even now to see the often tumultuous blonde so open with anyone other than himself; he must really like Techie.

Almost as if the man sensed Kylo’s gaze, Armitage’s head turned toward him, his dead-eyed mask fixed to Kylo’s own, eyes of unknown color surely pinned on him as Kylo’s were to Armitage. Kylo could tell, somehow, that Armitage’s thoughts were along the same lines as his anxious ones.

Staring silently at one another, Kylo felt his limbs start to twitch as his nerves spiked further, bunching in his gut and crawling up his throat, his face growing hotter as he fought off the tremors.

But then, suddenly and breaking the thrall, Matt’s attention shifted onto him as well, the boy’s face lighting up as bright and awkward as his always uncooperative hair. He waved eagerly, his other hand stealing Techie’s as he tried to get the other boy to look, though he clearly appeared reluctant regardless, only occasionally peeking from beneath his lashes after several insistent tugs from Matt.

Thankfully, the animated way his cousin reacted, even Brela turning and grinning toward him, helped to cool the warmth along his skin and somewhat ease the knots in his stomach. … Just somewhat. The tension was still there, in both himself and Armitage. 

 _Well..._ Kylo sighed, long but soft. There wasn’t much point now to stalling the inevitable. At least the children were there. Kylo didn’t think he could handle their last hour with only each other for company. There’s no way Armitage wouldn’t feel his anxiety, strong as it was, and he’d rather keep any buildup to a low level before the reception’s end, or at least their presence at it.

And then they’d be alone…together. Maskless. Bared.

Maker, if this wasn’t going to be the longest, most awkward night of his life.

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

The walk to his rooms, well, his new rooms – _their_ rooms – was twice as unsettling as leaving them had been that afternoon, though for entirely different reasons. He was no longer filled with rage or frustration or the bevy of other emotions that plagued him stronger and stronger as this day had come upon him. No, now he was all nerves. Fear and anticipation, uncertainty and a surprisingly large amount of desire, all growing like wildfire and far greater than he’d ever expected to feel. But for as quiet as he was, Armitage was even more so. He was nearly a blank hum at his side—just a little behind, actually—and that only made Kylo ever more anxious.

Did it mean Armitage had no interest in him at all? Was he as nervous as Kylo? So much so that he’d managed to lose himself deep enough to cover any leaking hints as to what those thoughts might be?

Kylo dug his fingers as thoroughly into his palms as he could manage with the soft leather covering them. It was only putting Kylo more on edge. Discovering how strong he actually felt about all this, about Armitage in spite of Ari’s continued reemergence into his thoughts, wasn’t helping him settle his own very palpable emotions. He hoped he wasn’t accidentally projecting them. He didn’t think he was; the intensity reminded him a little of the ones he’d had that night with Ari and he didn’t think he’d let too much through then. At least not enough he feared Ari would have noticed them as a separate entity not his own or of the moments shared between them.

Now at the doors, Kylo cast a glance to Armitage, noticing that his hands were as tightly clenched as Kylo’s had been. The action wasn’t particularly reassuring, but not entirely damning either. Quietly, he opened one of the thick doors, revealing the antechamber that preceded their rooms. The space was decently sized and well, if not perhaps a bit sparsely, furnished, though was overall not particularly noteworthy; the pair of them ignored it entirely. For Kylo’s part, it was simply that he was too focused on the next set of doors. Opening this one just as softly, Kylo gestured Armitage in first, closing it much more slowly behind them, knowing the instant it shut was like a fateful seal on what’s to come.

Armitage was glancing around the frankly unnecessarily large space, more like a modestly sized, if expensively furnished, apartment. Two sitting areas, one more for company—which Kylo found a bit redundant considering the antechamber was perfectly suitable for that—and another smaller, more relaxed and intimate one. A dining area that was also somewhat intimate and not overly large, two workspaces – presumably one for each of them –, as well as duplicate vanities, wardrobes, and sidetables to the rather sizeable and vaguely ostentatious bed. The closets were full of clothing for them both, new and old, and the en suite was spacious, sleek, and clearly designed for two. When Kylo had been relocated to the room two days prior, he’d felt a worrisome sense of dread overtake him more so than the announcement and swiftly coming date of his marriage. It was a physical, visual symbol. A nail on his coffin, signifying that he truly could not escape his fate like he’d so hoped and believed he would.

Taking in the room now, especially with Armitage there, observing it himself, his strong presence brushing against his own and filling the space, Kylo saw it in a new light. No less terrifying, but just as with his emotions, it was in a different way. He wondered on the life they’d spend there, whether it’d be formal or casual, or affectionate..intimate. Loud or soft, happy or angry or sad, or all of the above. He wondered if there would ever be more than obligation, whether Armitage felt similarly to how Kylo did now, or if he ever would.

Kylo had been so wrapped up in his worries he’d not noticed how Armitage had stopped at the dark, glossy dining table, its surface nearly covered in gifts, much as several other more decorative side tables and the primary sitting area were, and the only space free of them was occupied by some light refreshments of food and drink. Watching as one of Armitage’s slender, gloved fingers grazed a silver carafe, the champagne color matching well with the metallic shine, Kylo realized how little either of them had actually been able to eat all evening. Both the endless mingling and their own masks hindering their ability to do so.

Still uncertain how to proceed, Kylo chose the best, most innocuous topic he could grasp at. "Are you hungry?"

Armitage startled, his hand jerking away to his side and his head turning. His demeanor clearly displayed how lost in thought the other man had been, perhaps forgetting their situation for the moment much as Kylo had been drowning in it.

"I…" Armitage began, hesitating. "Not really, no."

It was likely that Armitage hadn’t had a proper meal since before the ceremony. Neither had Kylo, but his anxiety was rather harshly keeping all thought of enjoying even one of the tiny, delicate desserts far from his mind. His stomach was too uneasy. Perhaps it was the same for Armitage.

The silence that grew between them was wavering steadily between awkward and uncomfortable, the intended event weighing greatly on them both with every passing moment.

It was surely far less than Kylo thought, though it felt like a lifetime, when Armitage finally spoke.

"I’m not a virgin."

Kylo blinked, a bit startled by the sudden, yet suspected, revelation, but especially with how sharp and almost cold it was. Though there was an unsteady tremor to his presence in the Force that belied the harsh statement.

"I didn’t suspect you were," Kylo replied, and worried near immediately it was the wrong thing to say when Armitage’s fists tightened, his attention fixed on the table’s contents. Fearing a misunderstanding, he followed up with, "neither am I."

Another tense moment passed before a mirthless huff, a sardonic chuckle came from the man. "Betraying your own traditions?"

"They’re hardly traditions." Kylo’s nose wrinkled, thinking on the Jedi ways his uncle had tried to instill in him throughout his youth, despite now having a daughter of his own. "How else would any of my family be here if not for ignoring them?"

This time the scoff was amused, vague but definite, and Armitage seemed a little more at ease. "I suppose that’s true. Though I hadn’t believed you were any more a virgin than myself, regardless."

Kylo smirked. "What gave me away?"

"I’m not sure." Hux shrugged, though the gesture was tight, tension still present. "Perhaps the mention of your…" Armitage trailed off, pausing for only a moment before he lightly cleared his throat. "Or maybe it’s just a feeling, something you give off without meaning to."

The mention of Ari, however vague, brought another sting to Kylo, sharp in his chest and behind his eyes, a foolish sense of disloyalty rising in him once again. In reality, if there was anything disloyal to be had in all this, it was Kylo still thinking so deeply on his stranger when he was now married, and to a man he was admittedly developing feelings for.

"You’re not wrong," Kylo finally answered. "But that’s…" he swallowed thickly, the words struggling to form, "that’s in the past now."

It seemed Armitage detected how untrue Kylo’s admittance was, the tension increasing almost twofold, not exactly to where it had been, but close, though with a different tang. Not quite sharp, or angry, or even nervous. More…pained?

"Well, I’m sorry to disappoint," Armitage replied, his tone bitter. Yet again, his words felt nearly vicious, despite the low and relatively even delivery.

With a furrowed brow and confused gaze Armitage couldn’t see, even if he had been looking, Kylo said, "you’re not a disappointment."

Armitage huffed, murmuring almost too low to hear, "you say that now."

The way Armitage spoke was slightly withered, a nearly imperceptible drop in his countenance as well. Armitage was disheartened, disappointed…sad. While before he had been fairly good at keeping his emotions in check, Kylo could feel the insecurity emanating from the man. He’d never expected Armitage to think himself undesirable. There was a steady undercurrent of confidence about him, something that had made Kylo feel unsure about how the other man would receive him when the time came. If he’d be worthy or good enough to interest Armitage the way Armitage had so quickly and stealthily crept up and grown on him.

Feeling bold, and strangely somewhat desperate to assuage the man, Kylo stepped forward, coming close to Armitage’s side but not too close, always never too close. Kylo had thought he’d been keeping a subtle distance because he didn’t want to be overly much in Armitage’s personal space, but now he wondered if he’d done so out of fear for what would happen if he did. Both of himself and his new husband.

"I like you, Armitage."

Crossing his arms and curling in on himself just a little, Armitage scoffed. "You don’t know anything about me. You haven’t even seen my face."

Kylo reached for the man’s arm, retracting just slightly when Armitage flinched back. "I don’t need to see you." Refusing to let Armitage run, Kylo did grab for him, gripping his lean bicep and stepping closer. "And I know enough. Besides," Kylo was directly beside him now, very much encroaching on his personal space, "you don’t always have to know someone to find yourself liking them." He couldn’t believe he’d said anything remotely close to his father’s words, but they’d come off his tongue before he could consider the insanity of it.

Armitage was quiet, almost as if contemplative, but he soon hunched his shoulders and tugged away. "It doesn’t matter. As amicable as we are capable of being, I’m not stupid enough to think anything deeper is possible here."

Again without thinking, Kylo growled softly, stepping back up and looming as best over Armitage as possible with a mere inch or two difference in height between them.

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

Armitage jerked his attention back to Kylo’s, their masked faces so close now, closer than they’d ever been. "And here I thought you liked stubbornness."

"To a point."

"Well I’m so sorry to ruin your hopes and dreams."

"Will you just _listen_?"

"I’ve heard every word out of your mouth," Armitage snapped.

"But you haven’t _listened_ to a single one!"

Nearly trembling with a resurgence of rage, one Kylo suspected had been kept back as tightly as Kylo had tried to reel in his own, Armitage let out a harsh scoff, leaning forward as if to say something but then stepping quickly back and away.

"What the hells is there to listen to but useless placating to make this all a more tolerable obligation?"

Kylo caught Armitage’s wrist, trembling in frustration and ire himself, and jerked the man closer. "It’s not an obligation!"

Armitage wrenched himself free, his hand reaching up and yanking off the mask, throwing it to the table with a thick sounding clatter, knocking objects down and onto the carpeted floor.

"The _fuck_ it’s not!" he shouted, his cheeks flushed red and eyes burning, brilliant emerald swirling with fury and sorrow.

But Kylo couldn’t truly register the intensity of the emotions, even the conversation had become lost on him. Instead, Kylo had frozen, his mind jerking to a halt so severely he almost choked, everything in him falling to blank static; the Force might as well have been enveloping him inside and out with a demand to stay rooted in place. All he could see, all he could comprehend was Ari’s face. Perfect, gorgeous, amazing Ari. Standing right before him, wearing Armitage’s fine clothes and elegant form, his vibrant hair and smooth voice and controlled mannerisms. Ari with Armitage’s everything, Armitage with Ari’s face. Armitage was Ari. _Armitage_ was _Ari_.

"Ari?" Kylo whispered, his lips hardly moving, his eyes so wide it hurt.

Armitage – _Ari, his Ari_ – stuttered backward a little, pale brows drawn in, full pink lips Kylo had dreamed endlessly about curled in a mild frown. "What?"

Rather than answer, Kylo gripped his own mask and lifted it free, his stare unmoving though his body stepped forward until they were nearly as close as before.

"It’s you," he exhaled, smooth and soft like a sigh of relief, his free hand drawing up while his other dropped the mask carelessly to the floor. Armitage was frozen much as Kylo had been, allowing him to place his palm along the man’s cheek, his thumb tracing the high arch, the gesture exactly the same to the one he’d made _that_ night – _their_ night.

"Kylo…?" Armitage’s eyes darted back and forth, up and down, seemingly taking in every inch of Kylo’s face like he couldn’t trust his eyes.

Kylo pressed his other hand to Armitage’s face – _Ari’s_ beautiful face. "Ari," he breathed across the man’s lips, the shuddering one Armitage released felt like fire on his skin. "Ari," he said again, "Ari, Ari, my Ari." Unable to help himself any longer, Kylo pressed their lips together, the soft warmth that haunted Kylo’s dreams brushing his own. It took a moment, the touch chaste but firm and longing, until Armitage seemed to return to himself and pushed back, tilting his head to deepen the kiss while his hands rose to bury in Kylo’s hair.

It was like they’d never been apart. Falling right into place, into rhythm, and that flutter Kylo sensed around Armitage seemed to burst free, allowing him to read it clearly at last. And he could practically taste the answer. It was Ari. It was the draw of the man, his stranger, his Ari, it was Armitage’s very being trying to reach his own, to tangle and lock into place and remember everything they’d shared and could share and should share. _It was Ari_. Kylo breathed the man in, pulling him close as if he could melt right into him, trailing his tongue along the seam of Armitage’s lips and eagerly sinking in when he parted them.

"Is this a dream?" Armitage finally managed to murmur, his grips tightening, like if it were he’d fight to keep it.

"Fuck I hope not," Kylo sighed in response, one hand gripping the nape of Armitage’s neck while his other found its way around the man’s slender waist, keeping them flush against one another. "Even if it were, I’d never wake up."

"Hmm," Armitage droned, low and thoughtful, his fingers playing with the tiny plaits in Kylo's hair. "Never?" His eyes burned like they had that night – teasing, challenging, _longing_ –, but the brilliance of their color was now perceptible without the dim chaos of the bare room they’d occupied for hours upon hours. He could swear he felt the fire.

Nipping the man’s lip and drinking in the hum of appreciation Armitage made, Kylo then pressed their foreheads together, his fingers slipping possessively into the man’s brilliant hair as he whispered a promise in the warm puff of breath between their parted lips.

" _Never_."

 

 **\--{(** 0 **)}--**

 

Kylo ran his hand up Armitage’s calf, appreciative and practically enthralled, the soft leather of the knee-high boots was nothing compared to the man’s skin but Kylo was caught up in it nonetheless. He’d remembered thinking earlier that night, the first time he saw the man, walking at an even pace to join him at the short dais, that those long, lean legs were perfectly suited to the elegant boots. The entire outfit was obviously tailored to Armitage with precision, and it was impossibly immaculate, but the soft ivory-colored boots seemed an addition made for him like an extension of his body rather than a piece of fine attire.

"I’m glad they chose these."

Armitage looked down his body to where Kylo knelt at the edge of the bed, like a suppliant and adoring subject to his king, holding Armitage’s leg as he captured the emerald stare with his own gaze.

"Why?" The man quirked a brow, pale and playful. "You have a boot fetish?"

"No," Kylo chuckled, digging one of his hands into the meat of Armitage’s thigh. "Though you might convert me, with these legs of yours."

Rolling his eyes, Armitage pushed up further to settle on his elbows. "Whatever you say." He was smirking, though there was a wavering sensation in his Force presence that didn’t line up with the expression.

The tinges of Armitage’s insecurity had slowly been escaping the man’s impressive control since they’d entered their rooms, tainting the pleasant sensation of his aura. Kylo couldn’t deny his own nerves, but Armitage’s were far more bitter, and he hated it.

"Don’t you like your legs?" Kylo asked, keeping their eyes locked as he slowly eased the snug boot off, slipping his hand into the freed leg of his trousers to caress along the lean calf the boot was hiding.

The corner of Armitage’s mouth twisted a bit. "I prefer yours."

"Hn," Kylo intoned, disliking the subtle frown on the man. Pushing the fabric away to reveal the porcelain skin he remembered so clearly, Kylo bent down to brush his lips along it, the fine red-gold hairs tickling his own skin. Eyeing his ginger worshipfully, he said, "and I prefer yours. What a pleasant happenstance."

Armitage snorted, seemingly unconvinced but a subtle smile was trying to show itself, brightening something in Kylo’s chest. "Alright," he granted, dropping his other, still booted calf on Kylo’s shoulder, "then hurry it up. At this rate I’ll never get to see yours again."

Kylo couldn’t stop his own grin. "Eager," he teased.

"Obviously," Armitage scoffed in response, though a smirk remained.

Abandoning Armitage’s leg only after stroking every inch, Kylo more swiftly tugged off the other boot, dropping it far more carelessly than he had with its mate. Of course he was eager himself; Ari was a plague on his dreams – waking and sleeping – in more ways than one. And now with Armitage’s nerves feeling far more settled, Kylo was almost trembling in his skin to continue. As he started crawling up the bed, Armitage inched back with every move he made until they were both fully settled along the sheets, his legs bracketing Armitage’s while the man’s slender fingers gripped his thighs. His blackened gaze peering up at Kylo, his slender body splayed so invitingly beneath him.

Armitage hands were soon shoving under the hem of Kylo’s black tunic, rucking it up his sides and sliding his palms across Kylo’s torso, fingertips gliding slow and steady, like they were mapping the surface. Kylo sighed happily at the touch, momentarily thrown off course for the second time that night in his desperation to remove their clothing, yearning for skin on skin.

"Off," Armitage eventually said, the word more like an impatient breath.

The both of them bunched the tunic up and away, allowing Kylo to quickly pull it off, jerking it free of his head where the high collar made it difficult. Armitage went back to touching, his eyes growing darker where they swept along every exposed inch, but Kylo wanted to progress things. He wanted – _needed_ – to see more of Armitage, not himself. He saw enough of his own body every damned day; he much preferred staring at his ginger’s. Ignoring Armitage’s soft huff of annoyance, Kylo made quick work of freeing the man from his own tunic, Armitage’s fiery hair getting mussed further as he pulled it free.

He’d only gotten one glance in when his search stopped immediately, fixed not on the lovely man half bare and pleasantly trapped beneath him, but the achingly familiar strip of fabric around the man’s neck. Blood red, long, slightly frayed, and tied almost as exactly as it had been that night – simple, uneven and off center. Their own secret union, a wordless bond they could never have. Kylo hadn’t been sure at the time what exactly drove him to do it, only that he’d wanted to somehow leave his mark in a way that wasn’t the blossoming reds and purples from his fervent mouth and grasping hands. He wanted something deeper, even if, in reality, it was more easily removed than the healing of physical marks.

Running the tips of his fingers along the faux ribbon, the move like a reflection of when he’d first tied the bow, Kylo supposed it was the draw he’d felt to Ari that had compelled him. It was whatever this bond between them was, tugging them close, almost as though a string were wrapped around their hearts, tangled on their ribs and bunching in their souls.

The brush of a familiar, smooth touch brought Kylo back, Armitage’s hand gently encircling his wrist.

"You kept it," Kylo murmured, still staring, "you’re _wearing_ it."

The faint bob of Armitage’s head prompted Kylo to look up, finding the man’s eyes as wide and deep as his own, like he too were as amazed as Kylo that the ribbon was tied there, a blood red union more profound than the one at the altar had been.

"Why?" he couldn’t help but ask anyway, already knowing the answer.

"I..I’m not sure. I just…"

Kylo pressed his palms along both of Armitage’s cheeks, the flush rosy and warm, highlighting the pale freckles dotting each and sweeping across the bridge of his nose.

"I know," he answered for the both of them before leaning forward to kiss the man.

Armitage wrapped his arms around Kylo and tugged him in close, digging his fingers into the muscle of Kylo’s back and twining in his hair, forcing their bodies flush against one another. Their hands soon began to roam the longer they kissed, the gentle, longing press of earlier becoming deep, heady, open and closed and devouring.

When Armitage’s hands went down to tug and push at Kylo’s trousers, he shifted to join, keeping their lips locked as he twisted his hips to help Armitage shove. His own enthusiastic fingers worked at the buttons on Armitage’s trousers while the man nudged his down, pulling his briefs with them and lifting his own slim hips in the process to help Kylo’s efforts. They didn’t get much further than that though, their growing erections brushing, a spark of pleasure igniting through them both. Armitage’s hands gripped Kylo’s bared backside and squeezed, the both of them pushing their hips together and rocking into the feeling.

"Kriff," Armitage gasped, digging his nails in, one hand drawing pale red lines up Kylo’s back, arching as Kylo did at the sensation when he slipped a hand beneath Armitage’s lower back to keep the man close.

Their wrinkled trousers were barely down past their asses, and Kylo’s boots were still on, digging into the sheets – blood red, like everything inexplicably symbolizing their union –, lips refusing to part as they panted and groaned with need into each other’s mouths.

Kylo reminded himself there was no need to wait, they had all night, they had the rest of their lives. For now they could just jump right in to what they’d both been craving, fast and hard and oh so desperate. Save the slow and soft for later. He broke the kiss, Armitage’s groan of dismay soon morphing into a whimper when Kylo pressed his mouth along the man’s slender neck, nipping briefly at the faux ribbon.

"I’m going to fuck you," Kylo murmured into Armitage’s skin, already a sheen of sweat forming on the porcelain.

His hips rolled down as he spoke, their bodies lining when Armitage pushed up, his surface thoughts freely projecting his need to heighten the lightening-like sparks of pleasure. Kylo moved to nip his jaw as Armitage gasped in response, his head tipping back for more, and Kylo couldn’t help the little grin he made at the reaction.

Exhaling with a breathy chuckle, and a squeeze of Kylo’s backside, Armitage remarked, "missed my ass, did you?"

Kylo groaned in answer, his smug grin breaking as he thrust against Armitage, their cocks sliding together and sending another shock of pleasure through them both. He _had_ missed the sex…but, really, he’d missed _Ari_.

"You have no idea, babydoll," Kylo sighed, kissing up Armitage’s jawline before reaching his lips, "no idea."

 

 

 **\---{{(** ○  **○**  ○ **)}}---**

 **\---{{(** Three Months Later ) **}}---**

 

 

"Ben!" Leia called to Kylo for the second time since they’d exited the meeting with Senators Such And Such and Who Gives A Damn, now waiting at the end of the corridor, her impatience like waves pummeling Kylo’s own presence in the Force.

However, against his clearly faulty sense of self-preservation, Kylo ignored her still and kept tugging Armitage near whenever he tried to part, their lips pressing softer and deeper with every attempt to draw away yet only be pulled back in. A delicious ebb and flow, the tide crashing harder each time.

"Kylo.. _Ben_ , go," Armitage finally managed to order, pushing lightly at Kylo’s chest though he still allowed their lips to seal again when Kylo descended.

"In a minute."

"Now." Armitage made to step away with real intent.

Kylo just brought him in once more, lining their bodies like he could blend them together, as needy as always for his lovely Ari even now, after three whole months since their marriage. Perhaps more, in fact; Kylo was never the best at keeping dates straight when his thoughts were caught up in something.

Armitage gripped his bicep, fingers digging in the thick, silky fabric of his tunic as he gave in still, radiating as much need as Kylo felt in himself.

" _Ben_!"

This time, Armitage pushed with greater strength, managing to ease Kylo back a few more inches than before. "Go."

Touching their lips, kissing soft and chaste, Kylo said, "message me."

Armitage rolled his eyes, the green glistening despite his schooling expression. "Don’t be childish, Ben. We’ll see each other later."

Slipping his palm down along the man’s arm, he gently took up Armitage’s hand in his, staring raptly at those eyes, knowing how Armitage fell as deeply as him from a simple gaze. "Message me."

With a sigh, sounding more put upon than the emotions he radiated, Armitage relented. "Fine, alright. Now go."

Kylo grinned, drawing back but keeping Armitage’s hand, his other larger one holding it as well, and brought it up to his curled lips, pressing a kiss against the smooth, pale knuckles. "Til later, my Ari."

The flush on his husband’s cheeks, his pink lips fighting back a faint smile in response, was enough to keep Kylo going through the upcoming hours of tedium. At least until Armitage messaged him to save his wandering mind and yearning soul.

He kissed Armitage’s hand again, gripping tightly before releasing it and stepping back at last.

"Til later."

 

 **\---{{(** ○  **○**  ○ **)}}---**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, that's the end!! So..did you all enjoy the happy ending? The grand ribbon _reveal_ , which wasn't really that grand, but only so much can be done for such a thing. And, really, i think it was grand enough as far as they're concerned (｡>‿‿◕｡) OH, and _'Kylo'_ and _'Ari'_ become both like nicknames/pet names and endearments between the two. Ari especially so for Ben.
> 
> This actually ended up softer than i'd anticipated when i began the piece, but i like how they came together in the end, regardless ❤ the Force does work in mysterious ways after all ***mystical wiggly fingers***
> 
> Also, i can't imagine no one noticed how i constantly used 'blood red' to describe the fabrics associated specifically with their union and bond rather than any other word descriptor for red. Personally, i just wanted to have an outside association linking them together, something physical portraying the unseen link between them, but then, a lovely commenter brought up the Red String of Fate myth. That hadn't been my intent when writing _\--not consciously--_ , however i felt that the specific concept really suited what was happening with them and even my general idea. Thank you again, lovely commenter, it's wonderful seeing what readers find and interpret in fics, even when they're your own (つˆ⌣ˆ)つ ❤
> 
>  
> 
>  _Anyways_ … my tumblr is [nonsensicalsoliloquy](http://nonsensicalsoliloquy.tumblr.com) and my [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nonsensicalsoliloquy) is under the same name, in case anyone is interested, and as always any and all forms of love are very much appreciated!! <3


End file.
